


We'll Be Okay (I'm Not Going Away)

by MintSauce



Series: The Halfway House [17]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Eddie's pov, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3783826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintSauce/pseuds/MintSauce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eddie can feel the weight of it settling in his chest as Mickey stares at him, just two eyes shining at him in the darkness, not even a hint of fear. </p><p>Mickey's not what Eddie expected, not of a Milkovich anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Be Okay (I'm Not Going Away)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siess/gifts).



> This is for siess, who wanted a bit more of Eddie and Carl before. There may be more for you, but this is what I came up with at first. Hope it's okay.

The thing is, Eddie’s heard of the Milkovichs.

He’s heard of Terry, bought drugs off of Iggy. He’s heard people talk about their brothers fucking Mandy, what an animal she was in the sack. Jamie was only a year or two above him in school.

He’s heard their whole sob story like everyone had. He’s heard a lot of things. He thought he’d heard all the things.

But Eddie hadn’t heard of Mickey.

He’s pleasantly surprised.

Mickey isn’t what Eddie’s image of a Milkovich is. Or maybe that’s wrong, he is. On the surface, he’s short, his hairs slicked back and he has crude tattoos adorning his knuckles. He swears in every sentence and he smokes like a goddamn chimney. That has Milkovich written all over it.

But when Eddie meets him, he doesn’t realise how the last name fits at first. Because Mickey’s lying with his head pillowed in his boyfriends lap, eyelashes fluttering as Ian combs his fingers through that slicked back hair.

He watches the way they move with each other, like magnets. He watches and he thinks that this is exactly what he expected. He lets his attention slip in and out of the day, too busy watching the sun on Carl’s face and the curve of his smile as he prods his brother with more inappropriate questions.

It’s only later – and by later he means a week on and walking home from a shift as a bouncer at a club on the opposite side of town.

It’s only later when he finds Mickey beating the shit out of some guy in an alleyway.

He catches sight of Eddie and doesn’t jump like so many people do. He just nods and goes back to wailing on the guy. The guy grunts as Mickey’s fist connects with his stomach and Mickey apparently isn’t the sort kind enough to let him get his breath back before he does it again.

“You wanna repeat what you said to my friend here?” he asks, holding the guy’s head up by his hair and directing his attention to Eddie.

Eddie who feels like a bit of a fool standing there in his work clothes with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He’s not really doing much, just watching. Any normal person probably would have moved on by now.

“No,” the guy says, barely just a gasp but it’s enough for Mickey to drop him.

The guy apparently didn’t like the sight of Eddie there, which Eddie gets. If he was a scrawny little white dude, he wouldn’t want to run into him in an alley either.

Still, Mickey doesn’t look scared as he stands, shaking out his hands as he motions for Eddie to walk away.

He lights up a cigarette, offers it over and Eddie takes it out of reflex. He takes a small puff before passing it back, Mickey isn’t stupid enough to offer it a second time.

“Used to be a time I’d be doin’ that for no fucking reason,” he comments even though Eddie didn’t say anything. He hasn’t said a single word yet, but Mickey doesn’t seem to mind. “Now I’m beating douches for a fucking _cause_. Jesus, I’ve gone soft.”

Eddie isn’t quite sure what he means, but he thinks he ca

n probably guess.

“Doesn’t much look like going soft,” he comments. He wishes he had something to do with his hands, but he doesn’t want to ask for the smoke back. He doesn’t much like it.

Mickey snorts, smoke pluming out of his nostrils like he’s one of those cartoon bulls. He’s so short it’s almost comical when they’re walking side by side, but there’s something about Mickey too that’s so _large_. It isn’t his personality, he couldn’t fill a room with it and he doesn’t light one up when he walks in either. He’s not someone who would stick out, but he doesn’t quite blend into the background either.

It’s weird. The guy just has this sort of presence now, one Eddie can only notice now he’s paying attention.

He thinks it might be because Mickey is obviously so much more, so much smarter than he first seems.

“Should have seen me in my prime, man,” he says and hacks up a wad of spit, aiming it at a nearby can. He misses, but Mickey’s not even looking. “I’m more of a fucking Gallagher now than a Milkovich, it’s pathetic.”

He doesn’t sound like he really believes that. He sounds quite proud actually.

“You’re a Milkovich?” Eddie asks and he can’t keep the surprise out of his voice.

Mickey barks out a laugh. “Aye, you didn’t know that?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“Terry’s son, unfortunately,” he says. “Didn’t crawl back when the foster system spat me out though, that’s probably the difference.”

It might be why he hasn’t heard of Mickey before yeah. Or maybe Eddie just hadn’t known to pay attention.

“I went to school with Jamie,” he says. He doesn’t know why he’s talking, he’s not a big talker unless it comes to Carl.

Maybe it’s that presence Mickey has making itself known. Who knows!

Mickey frowns at him slightly as they round the corner and Eddie doesn’t know where they’re walking, but he’s not inclined to part ways just yet. “Who?”

“You’re brother,” he says.

“Ah shit, I stopped paying attention to what popped out my Ma’s vag after Mandy,” he replies. He doesn’t look particularly ashamed of this, but there’s a wistful sort of look in his eyes. He asks, “He as much of a dick as the rest of us?”

Eddie can’t imagine not knowing the names of all of your siblings. Not that he has any, so many it isn’t a fair thing to be thinking. But he just can’t imagine it.

“Yeah,” he admits, because that’s the only thing he can really remember about Jamie. He was a dick. Whenever he did turn up to class, you could always bet he’d be in the back of the room, feet up on his desk and snoring. Teachers started wishing he just wouldn’t come after the first year he was held back.

“You still in school?” Mickey asks, which is a topic shift that Eddie did not see coming at all.

“No,” he admits, he doesn’t know why he feels ashamed. “Thinking about getting my GED though.”

He’s never told anyone that before.

Mickey flicks away the remains of his cigarette and nods. The thing is, he actually seems to understand the weight of what Eddie has just shared. Maybe it’s the surprise that’s probably showing on Eddie’s face.

“You should,” he says. “I only finished ‘cause of Ian. Felt like a ball ache at the time, but turned out to be a good decision I guess.”

It’s different from being lectured by his Aunt about the importance of education. There’s no weight behind it, it’s just one guy passing on his life experience to another. Mickey wouldn’t be disappointed in whatever decision Eddie chooses.

It sort of makes him want to choose the right one.

He hasn’t had anyone he wants to impress since he was five. Carl’s different, Carl he doesn’t just want to impress, he feels like he _needs_ to do it and he’s succeeding. Wanting to make Mickey think maybe he’s amounting to something is a surprise he didn’t know he was waiting for.

“What’s your and Ian’s story anyway?” he asks, kicks a can out of his path and it clatters down into a grate.

Mickey watches the noise and they turn down another street, Eddie just following.

“Ian asked for yours, huh, I heard,” he says. He lights up another smoke. “Suppose it’s only fair.” He scratches at the back of his neck like he’s plotting where the starting point is of all of this. “It’s not really that much of a story. It’s just two kids that got dumped in a group home, in the same room who became friends, I guess.”

It’s more than that, they both know it is. There’re so many blanks in that simple explanation that Eddie could wear it like a glove, but at the same time it’s enough.

“I guess,” Eddie says and he doesn’t quite know why his mouth is twitching into an almost-smile.

Mickey shrugs. “You know you’re a scary ass motherfucker, right?” he says next, again, taking Eddie by surprise.

People don’t usually reference the fact he looks like a serial killer. It takes balls, Eddie will give him that.

“I know,” he says.

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Can’t really change my face,” Eddie says, which makes Mickey bark out another laugh.

“No, I suppose you can’t,” he admits. “Just… on the scale, if you’re at the top, Carl’s only about the middle, you know that right? You know he might not be able to handle the real rougher shit. He’s the kid that torches buildings, not the man who lights a guy on fire.”

It shouldn’t make sense and in a lot of ways, it should annoy Eddie that Mickey is bringing this up. He’s basically flat out telling him that while he looks like a serial killer, he isn’t fooling Mickey. Mickey knows he could be one.

They both know Carl couldn’t.

Maybe he could pull the trigger if he’s under duress, but Carl isn’t cruel enough to set out to hurt someone just for the hell of it. Carl would need a reason, whereas Eddie maybe wouldn’t.

It’s the difference between them, so stark, but at the same time, it pales in comparison to a lot of things.

“I know,” he says.

Mickey nods. “Good, just wanted to make sure we were clear. ‘Cause I’ve gone soft, but I ain’t dead yet and you’ll have to put me in the grave before I let you upset him.”

They both know the him in this situation is Ian now, not Carl.

But the only way that Eddie could upset Ian would be through Carl, so he says, “You can put me there if I do.”

They stop and Mickey’s looking at him consideringly now, lips shaped around the filter of his cigarette. Eddie can’t see too much of his face, just what’s illuminated by that red glowing spot. He can make out the pair of bright blue eyes though, dissecting him.

“When I was your age I did whatever I could. I stole, I scammed and I worked my fucking ass off for an apartment I didn’t know the guy I loved would even accept,” he tells Eddie. “People say kids don’t know how to love properly, that they ain’t mature enough for that shit. Around here… who’s a fucking kid anymore? We stop being kids the minute we see the first junkie shooting up. So you tell me you’re in, like really in, I’ll believe you with that shit. Okay?”

It’s as much a stamp of approval as Eddie is ever going to get and ever is likely to get again.

He knows how he seems, how he is and he knows what this means too. He can feel the weight of it settling in his chest.

Mickey may not be Carl’s family by anything more than association, but they’re in the same boat really. He and Eddie. They both waded into the shit storm that was the Gallagher life and maybe this feels like advice.

Or maybe it’s just Mickey telling him it’s worth it.

Still, he can feel the weight of it and he can feel it lift when he looks Mickey dead in those bright blue eyes and he tells him, “I’m in.”

He means it too, but it’s a different sort of knowledge to have someone else stare at you and see that you do.

“Good,” Mickey says and starts walking again like they haven’t just had this moment. Like nothing is out of the ordinary. To Mickey, maybe it isn’t. “See you around then,” he calls back over his shoulder. “And word of advice, watch out for Fiona… it ain’t worth it being on her bad side, trust me on that.”

Eddie does.

**Author's Note:**

> [themintsauce](http://themintsauce.tumblr.com)  
>  I make most updates on what I'm doing on twitter: @BethCottrell


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